Turning the Time
by kenziescott54
Summary: CHALLENGE. What if one tiny act could rewrite history? Do we act the way we do because we are destined, or do actions determine destiny? Draco Malfoy is forced to a crossroads in his third year, and Hermione Granger just might be a catalyst for him. Starts 3rd year, eventually Dramione, full summary inside. Thank you, Elemental0903!
1. Prologue

**Hi there!**

 **This is my first Dramione (from a once avowed Dramione hater, but you never know, right?) and it is a challenge. Here it is (in part, posting the entire thing gives away too much plot).**

 **Name (of challenge): Turning the Time**

 **Name of challenger: Elemental0903**

 **Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley**

 **Alternate Summary: "Time turners are illegal, extremely rare, and undeniably useful to their owner. What happens when the one person in Hogwarts who truly needs it finds out the person he despises the most owns one?"**

 **Most of the ideas (which are fantastic, I'm not gonna lie) are from the genius Elemental, not me! I'm just the writer!**

 **Please review! This is what gives me motivation as a writer ;D**

* * *

 **DISCLAMIER: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters**

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

The house was deathly still.

Malfoy Manor was never loud, but Draco had never quite known it to be this silent. It seemed that the house was holding its breath, waiting.

Draco's mother was having a baby.

He had noticed her stomach getting very round. He asked her, "Mama, why are you getting so fat?"

Then she explained that he was going to have a small brother or sister, which was something she had said before. But he didn't see what that had to do with her getting fat, and he said so.

"That's because the baby is inside," she told him.

"Inside your STOMACH?" he asked incredulously. Surely she could see how absurd that was.

"Yes," she said. "Sometimes, if you put your hand here, you can feel it kicking." She knelt down and, taking Draco's hand, rested it on her round belly.

"I don't feel anything," he told her obstinately.

"Well, it's in there," she said, laughing a little, but not the mean laugh that he sometimes got from grown-ups when they were mocking him; it was the soft, happy laugh that meant she loved him. He wrapped his arms around her neck, breathing in her familiar sweet smell. He only did things like this when his father wasn't around; for some reason, Father didn't seem to like it when Draco hugged or kissed his mother; he never let Draco touch him, and he never touched Draco.

"You know that when your brother or sister is born, I will love you just as much as I do now," his mama told him, rubbing his back.

"I know," he said, confused. Why shouldn't she? After all, he was always going to love her, forever and ever.

"Oh!" he cried suddenly. He'd felt a little jolt against his body. He pulled away from his mother in a hurry and put both his hands on her belly. "Mama, mama, I feel it! It's kicking! It really is there!"

In the years to follow, Draco would remember the look on his mother's face when he first felt his sister kicking within her; he would recall the mingled joy and pride, the overall glow on her face, would remember that shared moment of pure happiness.

Because it wouldn't happen again very often.

* * *

"Not in bed yet?" Draco's father asked him.

Draco started awake. His neck ached from the awkward position he'd fallen asleep in, and the hall outside his mother's room had grown dark.

He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep.

"Is she okay? Is mama okay?" he demanded.

His father regarded him silently for a moment. (Sometimes, Draco had no idea what his father was going to say or do. Most of the time he was simply morose; but sometimes he could be frighteningly harsh. Even more rarely, he could be unwontedly affectionate).

"Come," he said finally, and walked back into his mother's bedchamber.

Draco raced after him, his heart pounding. His mother was lying almost completely still, but her eyes were open; she was awake, she was okay! But she looked, oh, so tired.

"Mama!" he cried, running up to her.

"Shh," she warned him. "Look, Draco, look! You have a sister!"

Draco peered at the tiny bundle in his mother's arms. To his surprise, he discovered that it had a face, and hands. But oh, they were so small! When Draco put his hand next to Mama's hand, he always marvelled at how big hers was; but when he put his hand next to the baby's hand, he found that he dwarfed her. Everything - her fingers, her eyes, her nose, her ears, her mouth - were so impossibly tiny.

"Is it real?" he asked, almost in a whisper. "Mama, is it alive?"

"Yes," she said softly. "Yes, she's alive. She's real. Her name is Lyra; she's your sister."

He couldn't stop looking at Lyra.

Sometimes, when he was supposed to be asleep, he would tiptoe out of his room and go to the nursery to sit next to Lyra's cradle. He was fascinated by her; by how absolutely tiny she was, how her arms sometimes waved randomly without her seeming to know, how her breathing sounded so entirely different than anyone else's - "even her breathing is tiny," he would think. Sometimes she would wake up and cry, and then he would hide in the shadows while his mother came in and held her until she stopped.

One night soon after Lyra was born, she woke up and cried and his mother did not come. Draco waited and waited and Lyra cried and cried, but Mama still didn't come, and eventually Lyra fell asleep again on her own.

Soon after this, Mama taught Draco how to hold Lyra, supporting her head on his arm; and every night after this, when Lyra woke up and cried, Draco would steal into the room and hold her like that until she stopped. He liked to hold her, and he imagined that she liked it too.

Soon Lyra stopped crying as much during the night, and Draco stopped going to see her as much. She had stopped being such a novelty to him. But, at that time, she was never a bother, and he was never jealous of her being the center of attention. In fact, he sometimes became offended if people weren't making enough of a fuss over her.

These days were burned into Draco's memory, and they were the sweetest of his life.

* * *

There was one day in particular that he was sure he'd never forget. His mother came into the nursery one night and found Draco holding Lyra. Usually she got angry with him when she found him out of bed, and he thought she might be angry this time, because she started crying. But instead of scolding him, she sat down and pulled him into her lap, so that they were both in her arms.

"I love you," she said into his hair. "I love you both so, so much…"

"Me too," Draco whispered. "I love you and I Lyra too."

"Will you always take care of her?" Mama whispered.

"Yes, mama."

And he did. Lyra got older and bigger, and soon she was able to walk around on her own, and say things that resembled words. One of the first of these was a childish version of Draco's name. He thought he'd never been happier than he was when he realized what she was saying.

And he always watched out for her, just as he had promised his mother; he always tried to make her feel better when she cried, or to play with her when she was tiresome. He didn't quite understand this, but he was Lyra's world, and in some ways Lyra was his.

Time passed, and sometimes Draco would find his father looking at Lyra strangely. Mama began to look worried, and she grew thinner and didn't smile as much; and one day she saw Draco and Lyra playing with a broom and burst into tears.

Draco didn't understand any of this, of course; but it did become apparent that Lyra was very different than he was. She could not fly a broom as he could, and she never showed any little sign of magic, even as they got older. This didn't seem to bother her at all, and it hardly bothered Draco, even though he could do magic; in fact, it rather pleased him to be able to do something Lyra couldn't do, in order to see her eyes light up and to hear her say, "Oh, do it again, do it again!"

* * *

Draco loved Lyra.

At that time, he loved a good many things in his life. He loved his mother, first and foremost; he loved his nanny, he loved his great dog, and he even loved his father. But loving Lyra felt different. He loved all these other things because they had been there all along and they had loved him first; but with Lyra, he was the one that had come first. With Lyra it felt like a choice, a choice he was glad to make.

As she grew older, she loved him back.

When she learned how to talk, she told him so; but even before he heard it from her, he saw it in her face, and then he thought he could understand why his mother looked so happy when he told her he loved her.

This was how Lyra entered Draco's life.

* * *

 **FYI: Lyra is a constellation, neighbor to the constellation Draco.**

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 **Thank you for reading! Please review. -Kenzie**


	2. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

 **A few years later, Draco's Third Year**

Draco bolted wide awake.

Sweat was dripping off his face, and the covers were twisted wildly from where he'd seized them. Lyra's big, stony grey eyes faded away before him for the millionth time...eyes full of terror, but still full of life...and then…

Draco bolted from the bed and into the dorm bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he heaved into the toilet until his stomach was completely empty and his mouth disgustingly slimy.

He knew this routine now. He was used to it.

But it never got any easier.

 _I should have done something, I should have done something, I should have done something…_

Scrambling to his feet, willing the queasiness to leave him, Draco stumbled to the sink and washed his face mechanically. He tried to force the dull litany from his mind, tried to switch his face to the normal mask that he wore every day. On days when he thought of Lyra, though, it was always harder.

 _I should have done something…_

He slammed his hands against the stone sink until they were red, cursing under his breath. Then he glanced nervously round at the door, hoping against hope that no one had heard him.

He left the bathroom and crept back to his bed, although he was now terrified to sleep. He hated the nightmares, hated being reminded so vividly. Waking dreams were bad enough, nightmares were absolute hell.

Resolutely, Draco picked up his wand and crept out of the room. He was used to sneaking out, and he had learned how to do so silently. The halls around the dungeons were always cold at night, but he was used to that. He climbed the stairs aimlessly, but with hurried steps, as if by distancing himself from the dorms he could distance himself from his horrible dreams.

He found himself in the main hall near the library quite by accident. He had been trying his hardest not to think about anything, and in doing so had not focused on where he was going. This was not the best place to be after hours, because one could run into a teacher; so he turned, and was just heading for a different part of the castle, when he heard footsteps just about to turn the corner.

Hastily, Draco dodged into the deep black shadow of one of the arches - it wasn't a great hiding place, but it was the best he could do in a hurry - and waited. The footsteps passed directly in front of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if by doing so he could prevent himself from being seen. It was a child's logic - if I can't see them, they can't see me - but still impossible to shake.

He opened his eyes when the person had passed. It seemed they hadn't taken so much as a look about them; he could easily have hexed them in the dark. He glanced up the hall to see who it was.

To his utter shock, it was Hermione Granger making her way swiftly up the hall, in full view of any teacher that might catch her out of bed. Granger the the goody two-shoes, the show-off - Granger the rule-follower! But before he could wonder too much at this, something even more astonishing happened: Granger disappeared.

She didn't run away, or dodge behind something; no, she completely and utterly _vanished_. One moment she was clearly standing there in the hallway; the next, she wasn't.

Draco remained frozen in place for a moment, unsure if he'd really seen what he thought he'd seen. After a moment, his curiosity got the better of him; he hurried to the spot he'd seen her last; but there wasn't even a trace of her. Not a single thing to prove that it hadn't been his own overactive imagination.

Was he dreaming again?

But what in the name of Merlin could possibly possess him to dream of bloody _Granger_ , of all people? Had he gone completely mental at last? Maybe he had instead blacked out for a second (highly improbable) or Hermione knew of some magic he didn't (also improbable, but admittedly less so) or maybe she'd been killed someplace in the school and chosen to become a ghost (incredibly unlikely, but there was always that chance).

If he were to choose the most likely scenario of the three, Granger just knew a spell that would make her vanish. The closest spell he knew of was the Disillusionment charm, but she couldn't have used that; the moonlight was very clear in the hallway, and he would have seen her shadow. Also, she would have had to pull out her wand and tap her head to perform that spell, and he would have seen if she'd done that. So it was safe to assume she had not used the Disillusionment charm.

The Vanishing spell was just as impossible. For one thing, as far as he knew it was impossible to perform the Vanishing spell on oneself, and even if it was possible Granger would have gone into nonexistence, a place from which he doubted even she could find a way to return. Unless he had just witnessed her perform a frightfully ingenious way to off herself, she hadn't Vanished.

In fact, it was unlikely she'd performed any sort of spell, because he'd been watching her the exact moment she vanished, and she had not used her wand. It was possible that someone else had cast a spell on her, but in that case, where was that person? Why hadn't he heard them cast the spell? They could have used a nonverbal spell, but a nonverbal invisibility spell of any sort would not have silenced Granger, and she was sure to have made some noise the moment she realized she was invisible, and he had heard nothing.

He puzzled about this, it is to be admitted, for hours.

* * *

Anything was better than thinking about Lyra.

What would Draco do to get Lyra back?

Really the question was, what _wouldn't_ he do? He wanted nothing more than to go back in time, back to when Lyra was alive.

It wasn't just Lyra he wanted. It was everything that he had had, before that moment when his father struck her with the Killing curse.

It was the security he had felt every day, every hour, that he'd grown up feeling: that whatever his father might say or do, he would always protect Draco; he was always the man Draco could, and must, look up to and emulate, because he was Draco's father. Everything Draco ever said and did, even when he got to school, was done for his father's benefit, so that Lucius could point to any particular thing his son had done and say that he was proud. He sought favor of the people his father favored. He scorned those whom his father scorned. He repeated his father's opinions freely and adopted them as his own. He did those things not because he believed it was the right thing to do, but simply because his father did it, and that was the way things were.

In short, though he didn't quite understand it, Draco's well-being, his stability of mind, were entirely built on one way of living: do as Father does, and everything will be all right. And even though he resented his father sometimes, or didn't understand him, his goal since he was a child had always been to emulate him.

When his father cast the Killing Curse that killed his own daughter all that had changed.

These days, Draco often felt as if he no longer had feet to stand on, or if he did there was no ground underneath them. He was lost. It was possible that he'd always understood that he wasn't doing the right thing, but it pleased his father, so it seemed all right. Now what was he to do? A man that killed his own daughter couldn't be a man to admire, even if it was his own father.

His mother, also, had become a different woman. She seemed more like a ghost than the person that he used to know as his mother. She never, ever smiled; she rarely went out; and she always wore black, even though this incensed Lucius. When Draco tried to speak to her or touch her she pushed him away. He knew that she was grieving, and bitterly; but so was he, didn't she understand that? He needed her, needed her to be something to him, even if she couldn't be the mother she once was. But she was only a white-faced ghost. With Lyra's death, Draco had not only lost a sister, but a mother as well.

Of course, no one knew of Lyra's death at school. In fact, Draco was starting to suspect that no one had ever known that she was alive. How his father had kept that secret, he didn't know; he suspected that there had been some Obliviating done at the ministry. Lucius was taking every care to promote the idea, both at home and abroad, that Lyra Malfoy had never existed. So life went on, at school; his friends were the same, and they expected him to be the same.

But Draco barely understood who that child was, the one that had existed before Lyra's death, the other Draco. He was an entirely different person now, aged by grief; and yet he still had to pretend, still had to be the same person. He knew instinctively that if he let any hint drop of Lyra's death, or even her existence, his father would be furious with him. And was there any reason, whispered a voice in his head, that the killing curse should not be turned on him? If his father could find a reason to be heartless enough to kill his daughter, why should he not do the same to his son for some other reason? Was making him angry a good enough reason?

Of course, Draco knew that he was safe from his father, if only because now that he was at Hogwarts, far too many people knew of his existence to all be Obliviated by his father. But he could imagine other, worse punishments…Sometimes he thought he would welcome dying, not because he imagined he would be with Lyra, but because anything was better than this, living without her and yet pretending that all was the same.

There were times, awful times, when he forgot that she was dead. He would see a little girl that looked like her from the back, and then she'd turn and he'd see her face. He'd wake up after a dreamless sleep and go about his life for several minutes before he remembered. These times were awful because there was always the remembering, always the realization she was gone, and that he would never, _ever_ see her again.

* * *

"Wake up," Pansy Parkinson said, slapping Draco's shoulder gently. "You're falling asleep in your breakfast!"

Draco started, blinked and straightened his shoulders. He hadn't slept a wink last night since his nightmare; he'd spent most of the night in the corridors. He still hadn't found a solution to the Vanishing Granger problem by the time the sky began to lighten and he had to hurry back to his dorms.

He couldn't have said why he was so fixated on solving the problem. Maybe it was because he hated the idea of Granger knowing a spell he didn't; maybe it was because he wanted to distract himself from his recurring nightmares; or maybe, just maybe, it was because he, for once, wanted to be able to _fix_ something, even if it was only a weird riddle like this.

"Stop _daydreaming_ ," said Parkinson. "Didn't you hear a word I said, Malfoy?"

Draco started again.

"Would you leave me alone?" he said viciously. "If I'm ignoring you, it's probably for a reason."

Pansy's face contorted slightly; he thought she looked almost hurt.

"What's the matter with you?" she said. "Why are you so out of sorts?"

Draco really didn't mind Pansy most of the time. He had known her since they were small, and while some could find her annoying he often found her company diverting enough. But there were times when she could instantly get on his nerves just by using that whiny tone of hers.

"Sod off, Parkinson," he growled. "Let me finish my breakfast in peace."

She turned away, frowning, and Draco resumed his meal, although his bacon and toast felt like sand against his throat.

* * *

 **Thanks for the support, guys! If you liked it/hated it, please let me know :) All your feedback helps.**


	3. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

* * *

Draco woke up suddenly from a heavy sleep, a sleep that had for once been completely dreamless.

For a moment he lay still in bed; for some reason, this morning felt entirely different from other mornings, but his sleep-addled brain couldn't figure out exactly why.

Then he noticed two things; firstly, his dorm room was completely empty and secondly, that bright sunlight was streaming into his window - _mid-morning_ sunlight.

Draco bolted to his feet and rushed to the window. The sun was high up in the sky; he'd overslept by hours.

" _S_ _hit_ ," he grumbled. He vaguely remembered dropping into bed quite late the night before; he'd been exhausted as he hadn't had any sleep the night before _that_. He began to hurry into his school robes, searching madly around the room for his homework and his books as he did so. His arm, still bearing the scar from the hippogriff's swipe at him earlier that year, knocked into the armoire, and he swore again at the sting.

Eventually, he got himself together, though very wrinkled and unbrushed, and hurried for the stairs. He glanced at the clock on his way out of the empty common room; he'd missed Potions, and Charms was nearly over. Snape was unlikely to punish him for his absence, but Flitwick was probably going to give him detention.

"Defence against the Dark Arts it is, then," Draco muttered to his bag. He pulled his hood over his head as he went through the dungeons, for fear of anyone recognizing him from the Potions classroom, and kept it that way until he got upstairs. Ahead of him, the Ancient Runes third year class was letting out; many of them were also on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts, so Draco joined the crowd.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Professor Babbling," said a familiar voice, carrying from the door of the classroom. "I promise I'll do better next time, really I do!"

Draco backed up and glanced into the classroom. There was the Vanishing Granger herself, speaking earnestly to the professor.

"Of course, Miss Granger," Professor Babbling said. "I'm sure you will, but I really can't change your grade on this assignment, my dear."

Granger blew her hair out of her face, looking highly disappointed. Draco snorted, and she looked up and saw him in the doorway. Her lips tightened, and she turned away immediately. Without Potter or Weasley, she absolutely refused to engage at all times (and usually when she was with them, too), and so Draco usually left her alone. It was a great deal more entertaining to insult her when he could actually see Weasley's face.

"Do go along," said Professor Babbling. "Don't want to miss your next class, do you, dear?" She dismissed Granger with a wave of her hand.

Red-faced, Granger picked up her bag and hurried out of the room, brushing by Draco without a glance. He moved to the side at the last minute and she knocked into him, dropping her bag; books, quills, and papers and various other things scattered all over the place. Still she refused to say anything or even to look at him directly, but the expression on her face was enough - if she hadn't been so proud, she would probably have cried.

Draco left her scrambling to clean up the mess and trailed the rest of the students to Defence Against the Dark Arts, a familiar detached feeling beginning to possess him. He'd felt it on and off during the months since Lyra's death. It was odd - rather as if he couldn't feel any of the things he used to feel. Feeling happy was one of those things; but there were others as well. For instance, Granger's displeasure didn't give him the satisfaction it should have, or that it once would have. It was just something that _happened_.

Draco was entirely conscious of this feeling, and he absolutely hated it. He would do anything to get rid of it. Sometimes he pinched himself or nicked his thumb on the pin of his badge; more often he would throw himself into something - eating, practicing his flying, reading, studying - anything in order to try and distract himself from that horribly depressing mood, to try and make himself feel _normal._

Realizing that he had stopped still in the hallway, lost in thought, Draco began to walk quickly; he didn't want to be late for DADA, as Lupin tended to also be unforgiving when it came to detentions. It was only when he was halfway to the classroom that he realized he was headed for his missed class, Charms, not DADA; his mind had been wandering again. Then again, Charms was one of his favorite subjects; as a result, it was very nearly his best subject, and he was the only student in the second year who'd had a perfect score the entire class - that is, aside from Hermione Granger.

"Wait a minute," Draco said aloud. He'd just seen Hermione in Ancient Runes when she should have been in Charms. He could think of absolutely no reasonable explanation for this; having heard her conversation with Babbling, he knew that she was taking Ancient Runes, not just visiting; but he also knew that she'd never missed Charms, because he'd never missed either.

When he arrived in the DADA classroom, he was further puzzled by the fact that Granger was already there. He knew he had wandered in the direction of the Charms classroom, but this detour had barely taken him an extra minute; meanwhile, there was no way Granger could have gathered her belongings and gotten to class that fast. Besides, she was barely winded, and she should've been running to even get there on time.

Draco knew by now that he was giving this issue far more thought than was natural. Given that it was Hermione Granger, he should have just forgotten all about it. But it was strange, and combined with her odd disappearance last night, it gave him something to think about.

* * *

Draco visited both Snape and Flitwick after school and received a detention from Flitwick, as he'd predicted, and a homework assignment from Snape. Flitwick seemed rather displeased with Draco - not that one could tell from his demeanor, as he was as calm and polite as ever - but his replies to anything Draco said were uncharacteristically terse. He told Draco to come back to the Charms classroom the next day, which was a Saturday, instead of visiting Hogsmeade. At one time this would have incensed Draco, but he no longer really cared for going to Hogsmeade. For one thing, his parents had started allowing him to go whenever he wanted, as long as he was accompanied by his and Lyra's governess; and for another, he hated walking through the shops and being reminded of all the times he'd looked for something to buy for his sister.

Snape's assignment, which was a two-foot essay, proved also to be a problem; the class Draco had missed had been essential to the assignment, and so Snape suggested that Draco return the next afternoon after his detention and brew the potion he needed with Snape watching. Draco had absolutely no desire to do this, but he also had no choice, and so he agreed.

He found his homework that day to be extrememly tiresome. Ever since _It_ had happened and he'd returned to school, he'd found it very difficult to focus on homework, for obvious reasons; but of course it was very important to Lucius to pretend that nothing had ever happened at all, and that everything was quite as it always had been. Draco was quite sure that if his grades dropped, his father would see that as disobedience, and as he had no desire to attract his father's attention negatively - or really, at all - he tried his best to maintain his standard from the former two years. He was generally a very good student during those two years, and as the workload for third years was a great deal heavier, Draco found his homework almost exhausting.

That particular day, the letters on the pages just didn't seem to want to be read. His Transfiguration essay was giving him a headache; he could't even begin to look at his History of Magic reading; Divination was hopeless. His mind kept wandering to anything other than what he was doing.

He pulled his copybook out from underneath the papers and began to write aimlessly:

 _Today - a bad day. Overslept. Missed Charms & got detention. Depressed today - just wish I could feel ok for once. Also, strange things up with Granger._

He put down his quill. As a matter of fact, he'd been thinking on and off about Granger the entire day. Not because it was Granger (he told himself); he'd be just as intrigued if anyone else started disappearing into thin air and being places at strange times. He had no doubt that Granger had missed Charms, like himself; but that still didn't explain why she was an active member of the Ancient Runes class, as Ancient Runes took place at the same time Charms did every Friday. Granger attended Charms every Friday, just like the other days.

And it was also still impossible that she had been able to overtake him without him noticing and get to DADA before him that afternoon. Yes, he'd taken a wrong turn, but she still would have had to pass him, and he hadn't been _that_ deep in thought; also she would have been cleaning up the mess from her bag for longer than a few seconds. It was an odd puzzle, and he was beginning to want to figure it out.

The clock struck ten, and Draco shut his copybook with a groan. He was going to have to do the lion's share of his homework the next day.

* * *

The next day brought a great deal of rain and Draco's detention with Flitwick. This involved recording all the grades from previous tests onto a chart. It was slow and tedious work; Draco had to look at each test (thankfully they were already graded) count the number of answers got right, and record the score on a chart; and as it was for the first years and not his year, it didn't interest him in the least. The only name he recognized was Astoria Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass' younger sister; apparently she was failing Charms miserably.

Draco had made up his mind to ask Flitwick if Hermione Granger had been present the day before, but he couldn't think of a good way to do so. Flitwick was very shrewd, and while he might not ask Draco why he wanted to know, he most certainly was going to be a bit suspicious. He was quite aware of what Draco thought about Granger. Besides, he was completely silent as the hour progressed; he looked at Draco's work every now and then to make sure he was on the right track, but other than that he stayed where he was, doing the same thing Draco was doing, except a great deal faster.

Eventually, Flitwick unknowingly made an opening for Draco.

"Why were you absent yesterday?" he asked, as Draco came to a stopping point and reached for another stack of tests. "You're one of my best students, Mr. Malfoy. I'm curious to know what happened."

"I slept late," said Draco, honestly. "I won't do it again."

"Of course not," said Flitwick sharply. "I may as well tell you that you're at the top of my class this year, Mr. Malfoy; but you know that perfect attendance affects your grade at times."

Draco hadn't known this, as he never read the description for any class. "Does that mean that even if my scores are perfect, I won't get an Outstanding?"

"I can't tell you that," said Flitwick. "But you study hard, and you have never before missed a class; I assure you that I'll take that into consideration."

"I'm your only student with perfect attendance," added Draco, a bit irritated.

"You are not," said Professor Flitwick. "Miss Granger has never missed a class."

Draco looked up.

"Not once?"

"Never."

So Draco got his answer without even trying, although it was an impossible one. According the Flitwick, Granger had indeed been in Charms the day before; Flitwick would never overlook an absence, and he had no reason to lie. And anyway if she hadn't attended she probably would have been doing detention with Draco.

So what did that mean? She'd been in two places at once? Draco had never heard of any sort of magic that allowed you to do this, and if _he_ hadn't one could be sure that a _Mudblood_ hadn't.

Although, admittedly, if any were to know, it _would_ probably be Granger.

" _Mr. Malfoy!"_ said Flitwick, sharply. "Your quill is dripping ink all over my test sheets!"

* * *

 **AN: I haven't read PoA in a long time, so I apologize for any mistiness on the details. I'm reading it again this week. I went completely blank on how scoring works in 3rd year, so I'm pretending grades are the same they are in 5th. Also I know nothing about the layout of Hogwarts, so don't shoot me.** **Harry Potter Wiki says that Charms and Study of Ancient Runes are both taught second period on Fridays during Third Year. It also says that Potions come before that.**

 **And for those of you who don't know, the mention of Astoria Greengrass is a nod to Draco's canon future wife.**

 **Also note the summary has been updated.**

 **Thank you for reading! Please review :)**


	4. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

* * *

"Malfoy, wake up! Wake _up_!"

Draco shoved away the hands that were pulling at him and sat up. He found that his hands were shaking, and he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. By the light of a hastily lit candle, Zabini, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle were all staring at him.

"Bloody hell," Nott was muttering. "You gave us all a turn!"

Draco rubbed his head, disoriented. He had had a nightmare, of course; had woken out of it into a very different nightmare, where his roommates had apparently heard him screaming.

"What did I say?" he asked warily.

"You said, 'No, don't do it!'" said Goyle. "That was what you said the most. We couldn't really make out what you was saying otherwise."

Draco never screamed, yelled, or spoke when he slept. That was the only reason he felt safe falling asleep in his dorm room anymore. He felt aghast, looking from one shocked face to the other; what if he'd said Lyra's name, what if -

"You all right?" asked Zabini; his face and his voice were full of concern, but Draco knew him well enough to see the curiosity gleaming in his dark eyes. He shoved Nott away from him, kicked off his covers, which were tangled around his legs, and made to slide out of his bed; Zabini stopped him with an arm.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and his eyes had taken on a malicious gleam. "What're you frightened of, huh, Draco?"

"As if everyone doesn't have nightmares," Draco snarled at him. "I'm not afraid of anything." He pushed past Zabini, unable to shake a slight uneasiness. This was all wrong; Zabini was a follower, not a ringleader. The latter was, and had always been, Draco's job.

"Not about our fathers," said Zabini, and Draco stopped in his tracks.

Zabini kept on speaking, very quietly, as he had a way of doing, but his words were louder than screams in Draco's head. "'No, Father, don't!'" he said, in a high-pitched imitation of Draco's voice. "'Leave her alone!' Who's _her_? Your girlfriend?"

Draco's skin, his head, his whole body was burning. He refused to turn and look at Zabini, but somehow he felt unable to take another step away from him. His stomach heaved, and it was with great effort that he kept from hurling his dinner at their feet.

"It was a nightmare, Zabini," he said evenly.

"But dreams are always based in truth, as our esteemed Divination professor tells us," said Zabini softly. "Don't you know, on this occasion, I actually feel inclined to agree with her."

A cold terror was snaking over Draco like a cloak of ice. What was Blaise doing? What was he talking about? Did he... _know_?

"Can't we all just go to bed and have this out in the morning?" asked Nott irritably. "I'm sure I don't give a damn Knut as to what Malfoy's dreaming about."

Draco picked up his cloak, trying to disguise the fact that his hands were shaking like leaves in the wind, and wrapped it around his shoulders. "Where are you going?" asked Goyle, in some alarm. "You'll get in trouble if you're caught out of bed this late!"

"Yeah, well, I won't get caught then, will I?" said Draco, pulling on his boots, hardly thinking about what he was saying. He pocketed his wand and left the dorm room.

He was hardly down the stairs before his knees gave out under him and he had to lean against the wall. His chest was burning with fury at Zabini, with his repressed nausea and emotion, caused by the nightmare...and fear.

How could Zabini know about Lyra's death?

Of course, Draco wasn't entirely sure that Zabini _did_ know; but if he didn't, he was sure making a big deal out of almost nothing, and he'd never known Zabini to do that, ever. Blaise had been raised by a cold, calculating, beautiful witch who wanted nothing more than she wanted money, power, fame and adoration; her son was taught to be devious and cunning when he was just a child at his mother's knee.

Draco had fallen in with him simply because he was a Pureblood Slytherin of his own year; he did not particularly like him, and he wasn't inclined to his company, but he had never before had a cause to actively dislike him or fear him. It now looked as if that was changing.

Draco stood up, making an effort to control his breathing, and began to walk down the stairs, focusing on each step. One foot and then the other. Down, down, down. Into the common room. Across the common room. Out of the common room. Through the dungeons. Left, right, left right. Don't think about Lyra, don't think about the nightmare, the moment he saw over and over again. One step at a time.

Don't think about the moment where Lyra knew her death was coming...up the stairs, one, two, three, four, five...the moment where she saw the wand pointed between her eyes...one foot in front of the other...the moment where her eyes fastened on Draco...just walk...the moment where she screamed, _Help me! help me! Father, no, no NO! Draco, help me, HELP ME!..._ one...goddamn...step...in...front...of...the...other…

Lyra fell dead before his eyes once again, the life fading from her body, her name dying from her lips, her beautiful, dear little face cold and still with the eyes staring wide open in terror.

Draco bolted inside the room he had reached...he hardly knew where he was...and slammed the door behind him. He was sobbing, great dry heaving that made his chest ache...he dug his hands into his arms as tightly as he could, but not even the pain helped...he was still in the past...he was watching Lyra die all over again...he felt himself die along with her, leaving whatever useless shell he was still walking in...he heard himself screaming, cursing at Lucius, whose back was turned to his two children, the one living and the other dead...and he hardly knew if he was remembering the past, or experiencing the present.

Hours later, or maybe it was seconds, or days, Draco sat up.

His head ached fit to burst; there was a drop of blood on one arm where he'd dug in his nails. A dull, cold, calm ache had descended upon him, a terrible peace, a horrible stillness, a respite from his grief, and he didn't know if he hated it more or less than what he'd felt before.

He was in the library, all alone; it was completely dark.

* * *

" _Lumos_ ," Draco whispered.

By the light of his wand, he wandered between the aisles aimlessly, looking at everything and taking in nothing. Titles seemed to meander past him like river water; his mind was a sieve; there was nothing in it.

Was he past feeling?

 _Lyra._

The violent twinge in his chest at the mere thought of her name told him that he was not.

Draco grabbed a book off of one of the shelves; he didn't even look at the title of the book. He just knew that he needed something else, needed a distraction, didn't want to think about Lyra, her death, his father, his nightmares, _any of it_. He pulled the book under his arm and walked to a table.

Mechanically his hands pulled out a chair for himself, and he sat down in it and opened the book to the middle. He began to read, almost aggressively, forcing his mind to take in the words on the page.

 _Here the memoir of famous wizard Johanel Fawley are somewhat helpful to us_ [he read]. _This excerpt_ _describes clearly the confusion the Separa Curse could cause when seen by a casual observer._

" _I had cause to wonder," Fawley writes, describing the patterns of his brother, with whom he lived, "if Selwyn was quite as I thought he was. We are no great masters of magic, he and I; we know as much as any other young wizard, but we know nothing more. And yet his behavior is strange to me as of late; sometimes, when he thinks I am not present, I see him vanish into thin air. At other times, I have seen him appear suddenly, also out of thin air. He seems to have gained the ability to be in two places at once."_

Draco began to pay closer attention to the words, a thread of familiarity crossing his mind.

" _Also, when I am sitting with him and the light is dim, I sometimes seem to see him flicker, like a hallucination, or a dream. At the very least, I thought, he has gained the use of a Timebender. But when I asked Burkes if his supply was depleted in the least, he explained to me that no one had bought a Timebender from him for at least a year. And Burkes' is the only place in this village where one can purchase a Timebender."_

 _Johanel's brother was of course, as has already been said, the wizard Selwyn Fawley, the first wizard in recorded history that has achieved the Separa Curse, and also the last. For the purposes of being thorough, let us here record again the main result of the Separa Curse: when certain preparations are made, involving the darkest of Dark Magic and the skill of a great wizard, one is able to split oneself into more than one physical body in the same time. This twists the very laws of nature itself, and so if one has once accomplished the curse, they must be the strongest of wizards to remain in that state for more than a few seconds before their bodies are split to pieces by the very pull of nature._

 _Johanel was operating under the more reasonable assumption that his brother was using a Timebender, or what we now call a Time-Turner. This would, of course, account for his brother's odd disappearaces, as well as reappearances, and the ability to be in two places at one time. It does not, however, account for the flickering. That is, as we have already stated in previous chapters, a sign of the Separa and of the Separa only._

 _One must be careful, then, in assuming another may be using the Separa Curse. Often, the strange effects can be explained simply by the presence of a Time-Turner, which, while a very dangerous object when unregulated, is nowhere near as evil as the ominous aspect of the Separa._

* * *

Draco slammed the book shut, a sick feeling pooling in his stomach.

Hermione Granger had a Time-Turner.

 _Hermione Granger_ had a _Time-Turner._

He dropped his head on the book.

 _HERMIONE GRANGER had a Time-Turner._

When Draco was little, he'd asked his father to get him a Time-Turner because he wanted his nurse to forget that he had put a frog in her bed; it had made her very cross with him, and he hated it when she was cross. His father had explained to Draco that, firstly, his influence with the Ministry did not extend that far and secondly, that Time-Turners were very, very dangerous, and that you didn't just use them on a whim. You could only go back short periods in time, and you always had to be very careful.

"I will be careful," Draco insisted. "I just want to stop myself from putting the frog in the bed."

"And how would you do that?"

"Why, just tell myself not to! I think I would listen to me!"

Then Lucius had had to explain that you can't use a Time-Turner that way; that if you saw your future self in the present it could cause a great deal of trouble, that warping time was by its very nature nothing to play with.

After Lyra's death, Draco had for a short time been obsessed with the idea of using a Time-Turner to reverse her death in some way. In fact, subconsciously he had never fully given up on the idea; but he had accepted eventually that there was no way for him to obtain a Time-Turner; in fact, he'd been under the impression that you _couldn't_ obtain one unless you worked for the Ministry. If his father, with all his connections, couldn't get one, then who could?

But Hermione bloody Granger had one. Draco knew she couldn't be using the Separa; it was beyond most grown, highly skilled wizards, and there was not a thirteen year old on earth, no matter how precocious, who could summon that sort of magic.

Why on earth did she even _have_ a Time-Turner? It was quite against the law for a student to have possession of one, no matter what the reason. Hermione was clearly using it to attend multiple classes at once - now that he knew she owned the thing, he could see that as clear as day, and it was just like her - but how had she even come to obtain it? She _couldn't_ have stolen it, could she? His father couldn't even get one, so how the hell was Granger going to break into the Ministry and steal a Tim-Turner?

It didn't matter. None of it mattered. If bloody Potter himself had owned a Time-Turner, Draco would have had to find a way to get it from him, just as he was going to have to find a way to get it from Granger. Now that it was within his grasp, that he realized it was quite possible for him to get it, nothing would have stopped him; Lyra was within his grasp again; there was a wild, fragile, suffocating hope rising in him.

He could try Summoning the Time-Turner, but there was likely some sort of charm on it to prevent that, and in any case he had no idea what it looked like, how big it was, or even where it might be at any given time.

He tried anyway; he lifted his wand and muttered, " _Accio_ Time-Turner."

Of course nothing happened, and the object did not appear. Draco put his wand down and passed his hand over his eyes.

He couldn't steal it from her, because he had no idea if she kept it on her person at all times; and at any rate, the charms on the object most likely prevented its being taken forcefully from its current possessor - at least, in any magical way. If he were to physically take it from her without using magic, those charms might not work.

To do that, he would have to find her at the very moment she was using the Time-Turner, and there was no way to figure out exactly when she did that. For instance, Divination and Ancient Runes were at the same time, on Monday, and Hermione had to attend both. But he had no way of knowing if she chose to go to Divination in real time and then turn the Time-Turner back so that she could attend Ancient Runes while her real self was in Divination, or vice versa. It was very important, because whichever class she attended in real time was the class after which she would be using the Time-Turner.

Also, she wasn't going to just stand out in the open hallway and use the thing. She was going to hide herself in some way, and she was clever enough to made herself difficult to find.

Draco lowered his head to the desk with a bang. Then he banged it again. Then he sat up and rubbed his aching forehead, cursing under his breath.

He was going to have to approach her directly...and _ask_ her...nicely...to kindly give him her Time-Turner.

* * *

If Draco had sentenced himself to walking into a den full of dragons, he could hardly have been more horrified than he was when he came to that conclusion.

Then again, even a den of dragons would have to be overcome in some way if Lyra's life was somehow to be gained again.

He'd been a coward once; he had let her die because he was too weak and too frightened to save her. He _could_ not do that again, he _refused_ to do that again, it was not even an option. He was going to get that Time-Turner, and he was going to get her back.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review; even if you just say good or bad. Feedback is what makes this story grow.**


	5. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER:** **I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

* * *

 _Open your eyes_.

Draco was just barely awake. His mother's hand passed over his forehead, warm and soft.

"Mother?"

"Good morning, Draco," she said quietly. "Hush, the baby's sleeping!"

The baby?

Draco blinked his eyes, and the sleep dropped away from him like a cloak. His cheek was on top of the book he'd been reading, and his back and neck ached from the uncomfortable position he'd fallen asleep in. Light was just beginning to creep into the windows.

He'd just had a memory, one he didn't know he still possessed, a memory of being seven years old and being waken up by his mother...or maybe it was a dream and not a real memory, who knew?...there was so little difference anymore between dreams and memory.

He sat up slowly, groping around for his wand. He felt dazed and exhausted; both the violent passion of last night and its subsequent dull calm were gone, leaving him feeling heavy and sad and overwhelmed.

Still, something in him welcomed the emotion; he still viewed that unfeeling state with a kind of horror, and he hated it while he was in it. He hated feeling pain, but it was better than feeling nothing.

He found his wand under the table and was just tucking it into his pocket when Madam Pince pounced on him.

"Mr. Malfoy!" she thundered. "What are you doing here, may I ask?"

Draco just shrugged. There was no reason to think of an excuse, as he was going to be in trouble no matter what; and he didn't have one, anyway.

Muttering under her voice, Madam Pince took him by the arm. "Come with me," she said, in a louder voice. 'We'll have a talk with your Head of House. What's this?" she added, picking up the book. " _A Partial History of the Lives of Notable Dark Wizards?!"_

Draco shrugged again, hoping that Madam Pince wouldn't take the book along to Snape's office. He couldn't image what sort of questions Snape would ask, or what sort of answers he'd be forced to give.

He was relieved when Madam Pince put the book back on the table with a huff and said, "At least you haven't damaged it. It's a relief, considering you SLEPT on it. Oh yes, I saw you, boy. Now come along."

Draco came along. He had never been in the halls at this hour before; there were no students around, but there were professors everywhere, walking back and forth to their classrooms, and a general smell of cooking breakfast as they got closer to the dungeons. Many of the teachers looked at Draco in some surprise; but beyond a civil, "Good morning, Irma, good morning Mr. Malfoy," they gave him no trouble.

They met Snape at the door to his office. He looked from Madam Pince to Draco in some surprise.

"Good morning, Severus," said Madam Pince. "Here is a student of yours, whom I found sleeping in the library. With his head on a book, I might add! Why, anything could have happened - he might have -"

"Thank you, Irma," said Snape, in a bored tone. "I'll get to the bottom of this, don't worry."

Draco knew he had nothing to fear from Snape, but he still didn't like the sound of that.

"All right," said Madam Pince in a dissatisfied tone. "But don't forget that he was out after hours -"

"I am aware of that, Irma -"

" - or that he slept on a book!"

"That you have already said," Snape observed. "As I said before, I am quite capable of handling this myself. Good morning, Irma!"

He took Draco by the arm and shut his classroom door in Madam Pince's face.

"What were you doing in the library overnight?" he asked calmly, his eyes fixed on Draco's.

"Studying," said Draco evenly.

"Studying what?"

Draco said nothing.

There was a long silence, during which Snape scrutinized him heavily, and Draco just tried his best not to look as if anything was suspicious, and to think of nothing at all. Finally Snape said,

"Back to your room, and don't be caught outside of your common room after hours again."

Draco nodded and left, pondering Snape's choice of words. It was common knowledge that Snape was good at Legilimency, but Draco was not exactly worried at Snape reading his grief in him. Snape knew about Lyra's death, Draco knew that for a fact. It was the other thing that he desperately hoped Snape hadn't picked up - the part about the Time-Turner.

* * *

Draco didn't even bother himself with pretending to be social at breakfast. Pansy kept trying to speak to him, and he could feel Zabini's gaze like a cold wind; but all those things were fast sinking into an inconsequential place in his mind, like white noise.

All he could think about, the only thing he could think about, was Granger and that damn Time-Turner.

He was not going to tell her the truth. That was completely out of the question, for several reasons; and though Draco refused to admit it to himself, he knew that the real reason he didn't want to tell her was because she would be absolutely horrified at the brutality that would cause a man to kill his child. He didn't want her thinking about his family that way - in fact, she didn't even really have a right to think about them that way, because they still were superior to her, no matter what Lucius had done.

Even as Draco thought that to himself, he felt a sort of vague wrongness in his reasoning. Granger was a mudblood, inferior by default, and Lucius, the better man, had killed his child in cold blood for reasons of purity. There was some sort of irony in there somewhere, but it eluded Draco, and anyway he had other things to think about. He had to talk to the mudblood, and he had to figure out how.

If he wasn't going to tell her the truth, what on earth was he going to say? "Give me your Time-Turner, Granger, I need it." That was _not_ going to go over well, and anyway he could imagine she was going to deny that she even owned the thing. At least, she would if she had any wits whatsoever.

Was he just supposed to _ask_ , then? Just say please and thank you and oh, by the way, let's let bygones be bygones and ignore who you are and who I am? Like that would work either!

Draco could feel his mood sinking the more he turned the problem over in his head, but he refused to be completely dejected. There was absolutely no way he could fail at this, not now that he knew the opportunity was there. He was still floating on the euphoria that the discovery had given him; he was one step away from re-adjusting his entire life, one step away from returning to the carefree person he'd been before. He just had to figure out how to handle Granger, that was all.

* * *

By the end of the day, Draco had not thought of any "good" way to talk to Granger.

He was just going to have to approach her and see how it played out - and not leave her without that Time-Turner.

'No' was not going to be an acceptable answer from her.

Of course, once he had come to this decision, it was incredibly easy to find Granger after school; he went straight to the library. (It was a moot point to take homework with him, as he currently had no intention of finishing it). After some hunting around, he located Granger in the corner of the library; she was taking up an entire table, with about six books open before her and papers scattered everywhere, writing madly on a sheet of parchment. She gave rather an impression of a madman. Or madwoman, if one was to be technical.

Draco started to walk towards her, then to his own surprise ducked unexpectedly into an aisle. His knees felt weak, and he found that he was shaking a little.

There was so much, so much at stake here. He had to get this _right._ Granger _couldn't_ say no. She just couldn't.

He crossed his fingers, set his teeth, and turned to go back out of the aisle. He had not gone two steps when he found a wand pointed straight between his eyes; in a flash, his own wand was in his hand and pointed straight back at Granger.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he shouted at her.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded, her eyes flashing.

"What do I…?!"

"That night by the library," she said, "My Ancient Runes class, and now this!"

"I wanted to talk to you!" Draco snapped back, already aware that this was going very badly; but he wasn't going to lower his wand until the mudblood lowered hers. He couldn't help wondering how on earth Granger had seen him that night in the hallway, but he was bloody well not going to ask.

" _Why_?" demanded Granger, looking even more suspicious.

Draco struggled to collect his thoughts, which were multiplying and frisking about like rabbits on holiday. This wasn't meant to be a confrontation; he was supposed to be finding a way to ask Granger for her Time-Turner, calmly and quietly, and not shouting at her with wands out.

Bloody hell.

He looked down his wand at her face, thin and furious and entirely devoid of color, and he had never hated her as much as he did at that moment, the moment when he needed her.

"Put your wand away," he said as evenly as he could. "I just want to...discuss something, that's all."

Her eyes narrowed. "You first."

"Not a chance, mudblood!"

"Well then, you'll discuss whatever it is you want to discuss just like this!"

"Fine!" he snarled at her. "I need your Time-Turner."

Surprise flashed across her face. "My...what?"

"Don't play dumb, because I already know you have one. I need to use it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said obstinately, growing even paler, if that was possible.

"Look, I don't know how you got it and I don't want to," said Draco. "I'm not even trying to keep it. I just need to use it, once, and that's it."

An entirely different look flashed across her face this time - one that made the blood run cold in Draco's body. It was the look of someone who has just realized that they have the upper hand.

"What do you want it for?" she asked.

"I'm not telling you!" Draco could feel his heart racing; she had no idea how incredibly important this was...it was literally life or death, and she looked as if she was going to play with him like a cat with a mouse. The color was coming back into her face now, and she looked less worried; she was settling in, the vile bitch.

"I'm afraid I can't give it to you then," she said calmly.

"Where did you get it?" Draco challenged. "I'd bet you don't want McGonagall knowing."

"Go right ahead and tell her," said Granger smugly. "Please. I'll even come along."

 _She's bluffing_ , Draco thought, but it didn't really matter; McGonagall was not going to believe his word over Granger's and she knew that. "What do you want, Granger? Is it money? A new broom? A set of books you can't afford?"

"You know, Malfoy," she said, "the odd thing is, that with all that. _..money_ at your disposal, you can't get a Time-Turner yourself."

"It's illegal," said Draco, before he could stop himself.

"And I imagine that worries you greatly," she answered sarcastically. "Look, don't waste your time, Malfoy. I'm not going to give in to you."

"You idiot," Draco hissed. "I could make life _miserable_ for you, you know."

"Oh, aren't you already?" she said airily. "As a matter of fact, I think I can handle your worst, considering you've been throwing it my way for three years now. I didn't think much of it the first time."

Draco's fingers itched with the urge to hex her, and maybe something in his face warned her; her eyes slid to his wand. "You wouldn't dare," she said quickly. "Not in here."

"You have NO IDEA what I would dare! NONE!" Draco screamed at her, dropping his arm. He didn't know what made him do it - her snide tone of voice, her all-knowing expression...she knew nothing, _nothing._

Granger took several steps back from him, looking outright shocked. Madam Pince came rushing around the corner.

"Miss Granger! Mr. Malfoy - YOU again! What on earth is going on here?"

"Nothing," said Granger calmly; her wand was nowhere to be seen, and Draco's was still in his hand, in full view.

"Come with me, Mr. Malfoy," said Madam Pince sharply. "This time, I'll make sure Severus actually deals with this. What on earth were you trying to do, boy? Hex Miss Granger right under my nose?"

"She pulled out her wand first," said Draco sullenly; it was in fact true, but he did not expect Madam Pince to believe him. Why should she? Everything was going completely wrong.

 _This isn't over,_ he promised Granger silently. _I'm going to get that Time-Turner, no matter what._

He looked over his shoulder at her as Madam Pince dragged him from the library; she was standing with her arms folded, biting her lip. Even when her eyes met his, her expression didn't change. He had expected anger, or shock, or something of the sort...anything but what he actually saw.

She looked... _smug_.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please leave a review!**

 **Also thank you Elemental0903 for believing in me :) I'm so glad you did.**


	6. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Warning: Draco does lighten up a bit in this part, but watch out for some language if that stuff offends you.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

* * *

Draco felt a burning desire to do something to that mudblood, something terrible.

How _dare_ she be happy that he hadn't gotten what he wanted? How dare she _gloat_? Yes, he had put her down all these years, but that was only because it was her place and it was what she deserved. This was different, the way she was treating him. She was happy that she had foiled him, and that amounted to her being happy that she was preventing him from getting Lyra back. She was cruel, evil, heartless. She was a monster.

Of course, when he stopped to think about it, Draco knew quite well that it was unreasonable to think like that. Granger had no idea why he wanted the Time-Turner, and she wouldn't unless he told her, which he obviously was not going to do. But it still galled him to the utmost that she had been able to stop him so easily.

Now that he knew he had access to the Time-Turner, now that Granger had effectively admitted that she owned it, every second that he wasn't actively pursuing it grated on him; every minute was time lost; every hour was an hour in the wrong direction. He wasn't at all sure how far back you could really go with a Time-Turner, but he was did know that it wasn't very far.

What if, for instance, he got the Time-Turner some time from now? What if Lyra were dead six months by the time he tried to go back? That would be 180 days, an intimidating amount of turns. But what if the Time-Turner worked by hours or even minutes? What was he going to do then?

 _I'm going to turn the damn thing 4,380 hours,_ he told himself, _if that's what it takes. I'll turn it 262,800 minutes, no matter how hard it is, if I have to. It's Lyra's life! A few numbers mean nothing to me!_

His heart beat faster just thinking about it.

* * *

Of course, when Madam Pince reported Draco for the second time, Snape was very curious to know why Draco had been trying to jinx Hermione Granger in the library. Draco answered as noncommittally as possible; it was almost fortunate for him, in this case, that Snape knew of Draco's constant tiff with Potter and his friends, because then he had a rather solid reason for picking a fight with Granger.

So how was he going to get the Time-Turner now? Could he make some Polyjuice and pretend to be Potter or Weasley? But no, brewing Polyjuice took a month, and he didn't have the time for that. He knew that Snape probably had some stored away, but he couldn't ask Snape for some without explaining the exact reason why he wanted it.

Whatever people might think, Snape did not show _that_ much favoritism to his students in private; he did not often let them get away with things without a threat or a punishment (granted that it was a punishment that did not involve points being deducted from their House), and he almost never accepted non-explanations for repeated offences, and he NEVER gave any of his potions away without asking questions.

Draco himself was generally one of the few exceptions to these rules - he suspected Snape was in his father's pocket, like everyone else - but as he had not been on his best behavior lately, he couldn't ask Snape for the potion. He couldn't explain to Snape what he was doing, and try as he might he couldn't possibly think of an excuse that would fool him.

He knew about a spell that would force a person to tell the truth to any question you asked; it was a spell that worked differently from Veritaserum and was not taught at Hogwarts. He had learned it from his father, and he knew that Granger couldn't possibly know the counterspell. If he used this spell, he could get her to tell him where she kept the thing; if it was on her person, he could try and hex her immediately in some way to incapacitate her - provided she wasn't on to him by then and wasn't quicker with a counterjinx - and then steal it from her.

There were so many reasons not to do this that he didn't entertain the idea for very long. Granger was not as skilled as he was when it came to jinxing, but she was just as fast, and he had no doubt that she would foil him in some way during this process.

* * *

Along with worrying about Granger, Draco had other things on his mind.

Zabini had always been a slimy bastard, but Draco was noticing that he became slimier as time went by. He was beginning to be always saying things to Draco that hinted that he knew something Draco didn't. As it happened, Draco knew this trick quite well; Zabini most likely knew nothing, but was trying to goad Draco into thinking that he did know something.

But the very fact that he was doing this alerted Draco to the fact that Zabini was enough onto him, in some way, to know that he had some sort of secret that was worth ferreting out.

The webs we Slytherins wrap around each other, Draco thought to himself. Moves and dodges and countermoves, pyramids of half-truths and outright lies. We lie as a matter of course, we lie when we're barely out of the cradle, we lie our way into the grave. We lie to other people, we lie to ourselves, we lie about that time when we murdered our squib daughter at the fucking dinner table.

His skin still grew cold when he thought about Lyra's death now, but while the horror was still very real, the despair was no longer so complete. He could do something about it now. He _was going_ to do something about it.

If he could have observed himself, he would have noticed that he was beginning to look more energized than he had since the start of the term, that his step was lighter and his face less gaunt; everything was getting easier for him, from his homework to his day-to-day interactions with people. It was easier to talk to his friends, it was easier to taunt people...in short, it was easier to be his former self.

Of course, he couldn't see all this in himself, but he felt different: dazed, like a man who has just woken out of a deep sleep, but more alert and aware of his surroundings than he had been since _it_ happened.

Going after the Time-Turner, investing his thought in getting the thing from Granger rather than in the terrible memories of Lyra's death, was waking him up. He had a purpose now, as opposed to before, when he'd felt aimless and lost.

* * *

It was a week after his confrontation with Granger, and he was sending a letter to his mother.

He still wrote to her, even though she never wrote back. He missed her almost as much as he missed his baby sister, and he still wanted her to know that he loved her, that he cared about her even if she was past caring about him. He was still her son and she was still his mother and someday, he told himself, she was going to wake out of her stupor and come to that realization again.

He let his mind wander as he climbed to the Owlery with his letter; back to all of his early memories of his mother, back to all of his memories of her before Lyra's death. He had not quite realized how much his mother had meant to him; he had always vaguely known, in the back of his mind, that he loved Lyra almost more than he loved his life and that she meant almost everything to him, because he had loved her before she had even known what love was. But with his mother, it was the other way around; she had loved him before he took his first breath, and he hadn't really had any idea how much that meant to him until he lost it.

He opened the Owlery door and came face to face with Hermione Granger.

 _Of course,_ he thought _._

He froze, and she tried to dodge him to leave the Owlery. He moved to block her automatically - _don't let her get away,_ he told himself, _this is a golden opportunity_ \- and she pulled out her wand at once. He heard the letter in his hands drop to the floor as he pulled out his own wand reflexively.

Here we go again, he thought, as they stared down their wands at each other.

"What is it this time, Malfoy? Why won't you let me go?" Granger asked, her voice annoyingly shrill. Draco wondered if that meant she was frightened, and if it did, what he could do to turn that fright to his favor. His mind was working quickly; he had had no time to prepare himself for this encounter, but it could be advantageous if he played it right. It was a perfect opportunity; they were far away from anyone who could hear any noise they made. He could, theoretically, say or do whatever he wanted.

"What do you think I want?" he countered.

"I really don't care," she said.

He thought he had figured it out. She was unsure, and that made her nervous. _Be a Slytherin_ , he told himself, _think_.

He lowered his wand.

Granger's eyes widened in surprise as he set the wand on the floor between them and took a step back, holding up his hands. As a matter of fact, he was very nearly as surprised as she was; he felt extremely unprotected without his wand on his person. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been without it; a wizard's wand was part of him, and you didn't just _leave it somewhere_ or _put it down._

He evaluated his decision for a brief second, even though it was too late to take it back. Did he really trust Granger that much?

At any rate, if his intention had been to intimidate Granger, or throw her off his scent, it certainly had worked. Now she looked genuinely frightened; if she had any sense, she was probably waiting for the other shoe to drop, thinking that he had something else in store for her.

The thing was, he didn't.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said. "I just want the Time-Turner."

"What on earth do you want it for?" she asked, her voice even shriller - if that was at all possible.

"I'm not telling you," he said, forcing himself not to say it impatiently or loudly; he envisioned to himself that he was talking to a cat. Everyone knows that if you startle a cat it will either flee or attack.

"I'm not giving it to you," she said stubbornly.

Draco's mind was beginning to whirl out of control, and he was dangerous close to hyperventilating; as before, everything that was at stake was suddenly weighing down on his shoulders. He took a deep breath and forced himself to think rationally, and fast.

What would Hermione Granger be affected by? What would be her weak spot? How could she be convinced to hand the thing over without a fight?

"My sister," he said. "I have to save my sister."

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could quite stop them. He didn't know what made him say it, the thing he had been keeping inside for entire months; it was as it had been when he put his wand down; as if his subconscious had acted without his permission. But as soon as he started, he couldn't stop: it was as if a dam had broken.

"She was alive six months ago. She was only six years old, and she doesn't deserve to die, and it's my fault she's dead, so I have to be the one to save her. See?"

Granger looked at him as if he had gone mad. Her eyes were positively huge.

"What...the bloody _hell_ , Malfoy…"

He almost laughed; the curse words sounded so unnatural coming out of her mouth. The shock and disbelief in her face, however, looked quite real.

"I swear I'm not lying," he said, his teeth gritted. Merlin save him, nothing in his life had ever galled him exactly like this, having convince _Granger_ that _he_ had honor. "Now just let me have that Time-Turner, and we never have to speak to each other again."

Granger lowered her wand, and Draco felt his heartbeat speed up suddenly. She had believed him; it had worked, it was going to work, he was going to get it.

"You can't," she said.

"What?" That wasn't how it was supposed to work; she was supposed to give it to him now.

"Time-Turners don't go that far back, Malfoy. And you can't use magic to bring dead people back to life, you know. It...it goes against the laws of nature, it can't be done, it's one of the reasons they don't give Time-Turners out to people -"

"Would you shut up?" Draco almost shouted. "I didn't ask for your _advice._ I asked for that Time-Turner!"

"But it's _impossible_ ," she said, now speaking slowly and with a slightly raised voice - as if he were both deaf and an idiot. "Didn't you hear me? It isn't going to work."

"Didn't you hear _me_?" Draco answered, matching her tone. "I have to try."

"It won't work!" she repeated obstinately.

"You already said that! Have you noticed I don't care?" demanded Draco. She'd believed him; now all she had to do was hand it over. He was _so close_.

"Don't you know anything about Time-Turners?" she said.

He had heard that tone of voice from her before; it was the voice she sometimes used in class when someone had given a wrong answer and she took it on herself to correct them before the teacher could, usually with an answer quoted right out of the textbook. It always made his skin crawl with annoyance when she did that; fortunately, Snape had completely stopped that nonsense in Potions, but Draco still had to deal with it in almost every other class.

Hearing her use that voice now made his temper rise very suddenly, but he fought to keep himself in check. _Maybe if I'm nice, that'll somehow work and she'll let me have it,_ he told himself. _Calm down, breathe slowly, don't get angry._

"Did you hear anything I said?" demanded Granger.

"What?"

She glared at him. "I _said,_ don't you know anything about Time-Turners? Surely you know how they're meant to be used? There's an entry on them in -"

"I DON'T BLOODY CARE!" Draco bellowed at her.

 _Well done. So much for staying calm,_ said a little voice in his head - a voice that sounded suspiciously like that of his father, the last voice he wanted to hear at this moment - or any moment, really.

Granger looked startled, but she didn't raise her wand. "I can't be responsible for anything happening that shouldn't," she said, in a nauseatingly lofty manner. "Changing the past is risky and against the law - for a good reason. And there are reasons why you can't use magic to save a dead person. For one thing, it usually doesn't work - it's against the laws of nature, as I said before - and for another, if it does work, there's always a catch, like…"

"I know all that!" Draco said, trying to keep himself from shouting again. "I was RAISED a wizard, Granger, unless you've somehow forgotten. You think you know everything because you've read a couple of books, but you're just a Muggle in a wizard's world. If you were a real witch, you'd know that there's always a way around the "rules" when it comes to magic. But what does a Mudblood like you know about subtleties like that?"

Granger looked extremely put out at this, as he had known she would; all of her supposed intelligence came from textbooks, but when anyone pointed this out to her, she sulked.

Now, however, was not a great time to point this out. He was trying to pacify her, not infuriate her; he recalled to mind his earlier idea of talking to a cat. "You don't have to be responsible for anything," he said, trying to sound persuasive. "All you have to do is let me have the Time-Turner."

The Owlery door opened behind him and a Hufflepuff first year hurried in, walking almost directly into him. She looked from Granger to Draco in obvious surprise; Granger took her chance to dodge past Draco and hurry out of the Owlery.

"Hey!" Draco shouted after her. "Granger!" He scrambled for his wand. He was halfway down the stairs when the Hufflepuff called after him:

"You forgot your letter!"

Draco cursed and ran back up the stairs to where the girl was standing, holding his envelope in her hand. He snatched it from her so suddenly that she flinched, then turned to chase after Granger. But he stopped after only a few steps; chasing her would do no good at this point, as she was too far down. He might as well send his letter, he thought; and so he returned to the Owlery, where the Hufflepuff looked at him curiously.

"Was that your girlfriend?" she asked.

"WHAT?!"

"Was that your girlfriend?" she repeated. "Because, if she is, I think it's weird that you called her Granger. Also, you're a Slytherin and she's a Gryffindor and I didn't think people from different houses dated."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you you ask too many damn questions?" Draco asked, finding an owl.

"Yes," she answered at once. "Although mostly they just say I'm _inquisitive_ ," she added, pronouncing the last word as if she were quite proud of knowing a word so impressive.

Draco sighed and turned his back to her, tying his letter to the owl's leg. He fished in his pocket for a treat when the owl pecked his hand, only to find that he didn't have one.

"So was that your girlfriend?" the girl pursued. "Are you fighting? It sounded like you were fighting."

"Bloody hell!" Draco shouted at her. "No, she isn't my girlfriend! Stop asking me questions!"

"Need a treat?" she said, unfazed, holding one out to him. "That owl doesn't take letters anywhere without treats, I've noticed."

Draco took the treat from her, but only because he had no other option, and the owl finally did its job and flew away. Draco brushed past the Hufflepuff and made for the stairs.

"Nice to meet you!" she called after him cheerfully.

Bloody Hufflepuffs.


End file.
